Ulterior Motives
by Sophia Hawkins
Summary: AU. Duncan thought he met Methos by chance in 1995. But like everything else with Methos, nothing that you see is what you get. Methos planned it that way, and Duncan is not going to like the reason why.
1. Chapter 1

Ulterior Motives

"Flying saucers at 2 o' clock!"

Methos just avoided having one of the dinner plates hit him in the head and only turned just in time to avoid being pelted by a second. He felt someone grab his arm and jerk him back.

"Get over here," Caspian said as he pulled Methos down on the couch beside him and out of the direct line of fire, "Let those two kill each other."

"Sounds like a good idea," Methos said as a third plate narrowly avoided hitting them.

In the kitchen they could hear several things crashing or breaking and people screaming. This of course was nothing new for them, just about the 10th round of an ongoing fight between Kronos and his wife, Rita. The two Immortals had been married for close to a dozen years and during that time Methos and his other brothers had been out to see the married couple many times and had on occasion stayed with them, and during all those times they were witnesses and sometimes spectators in a countless number of fights between husband and wife.

Half the time Methos wasn't even sure what the fights were about, or even if there _was_ a reason for them; anymore he saw it as just being their way of communicating. If they weren't screaming and breaking things over each other's heads, they'd have nothing to do with one another. By now it had just about come down to an exact science, they'd spend a couple of hours, or days, at each other's throats, and then they'd be good for about three weeks and then start up again. Of course Methos knew they didn't _really_ hate each other, not for the most part anyway, it was just how they were, though there were times he hated being anywhere near the line of fire.

"How long do you think they'll keep at it this time?" Methos asked.

"That depends on how many dishes are left," Caspian told him.

They heard a noise from the kitchen that sounded like the whole china cabinet collapsing and a minute later they saw Rita storm out putting on her coat. What Kronos ever saw in her they could never find out; she was a scrawny redheaded woman who was just as pigheaded as her husband, and just as spiteful.

"Where're you going?" Methos asked, already having a good idea of the answer.

"I'm heading out!" she told them, and that was all.

Methos got up after the door slammed to follow after Rita, but he heard Kronos' voice as he emerged from the kitchen, "Let her go, she'll be back in an hour or so. She can't stay mad for _too_ long."

"I hope not," Methos replied, "It was already snowing when we got here, supposed to get a few inches before the night's over."

"Well," Caspian offered, "She always _was_ a frigid bitch, this ought to just confirm it."

"Be nice," Methos warned him.

"So let her cool off, with that weather she ought to be back here even faster than usual," Kronos said.

Methos looked to the clock and murmured to himself, "I hope so."

* * *

Rita didn't come back after an hour, or even two. Outside the snow was getting worse and Methos was starting to get worried. He wasn't really sure why, he knew Rita was a grown woman and could take care of herself, but he still couldn't shake the feeling that something horrible had happened. And he guessed that Kronos was thinking the same thing because it was decided they'd head out and look for her.

"Hey Kronos, tell me something," Methos said as he put on his coat, "How bad was the fight tonight? I mean did you say anything to her worse than usual that she would _intentionally_ stay away?"

"I doubt it's anything worse than what I've been saying to her for the last 10 years," he answered.

Methos shrugged as he buttoned up his coat, "If you say so."

By now they were all familiar with how Rita worked and where she tended to disappear to when she stormed out of the house, Kronos and Silas went one way and Methos and Caspian went another, already more than ankle deep in snow and more of it pouring down on them, like a ticker tape parade.

"Rita!" Methos bellowed out, and no easy task because the cold air was murder on his lungs, "Come on, Rita, stop being stubborn and come on home, all's forgiven! Well…almost!"

"She's nowhere around here," Caspian said, "We can't feel her and we can't hear her, meaning she's somewhere that we're too far out of range of her big mouth."

"Oh boy," Methos said after he and Caspian had trudged through a few more blocks of pure snow, "I hope she didn't get knocked out, in a few minutes she'd be buried under this stuff, it's heavier than usual."

"Why are you so worried about her?" Caspian asked.

"I don't know," Methos said, "It's just that this is some of the worst weather to get caught out in, lousy as hell for fighting, very easy for frostbite to set in – several times."

"Yeah, and maybe she also got eaten by the abominable snowman too," Caspian sarcastically remarked, "Knowing her, she probably got into a bar somewhere and is drinking herself stupid."

"Maybe," Methos said, and then stopped in his tracks.

Caspian about walked into him and asked, "What is it?"

Methos turned to him and said, "Somebody's nearby, I can feel it."

"I can't," Caspian told him.

"Barely," Methos noted, and he didn't like it. He started looking around everywhere, it was dark naturally since it was late at night, but with the snow, the sky above had a pinkish hue to it that made everything a little brighter than usual. "She's got to be here somewhere…" he sucked in a deep breath and called out at the top of his lungs, "RITA!"

The night was still and quiet, he could even hear the snow falling on the ground, and he listened closely for any sounds that could be human…and then…

"She's around here somewhere, I can hear her," Methos said.

It was so far off though, he wasn't sure what direction it was coming from. He listened, and he could hear it again, a low moaning, and he realized it was coming from somewhere up ahead. He and Caspian jumped over some already formed snow banks and came to an empty intersection in the downtown area, just a couple blocks from where all the nightly traffic and bright lights were, and only a block away from Kronos' house. There was enough illumination cast up on this block that they could see everything. Methos looked around, and then he saw it.

"Look!" he grabbed Caspian's arm and forced him to look in the same direction.

Over on the right side of the street by the corner fire hydrant, they saw an arm sticking out from under a thin pile of snow, and saw the hand was moving slightly. Methos and Caspian ran over to the figure laying in the snow.

"Rita," Methos dropped down beside her and started wiping the snow off of her. Her Quickening was so weak he could hardly feel it, meaning that she was near death. The snow cleared away, and he couldn't help gasping at what he saw.

Rita lay on the ground a bloody mess, her clothes were gone, she was covered only with a blue tartan blanket, and it only half covered her body.

Methos could feel his head pounding and it was a minute before he realized it was due in part to the sudden presence of other Immortals, he could hear Kronos as he and Silas approached but the words weren't registering with him. All he could focus on was the bloody, beaten woman laying beside him, her eyes all but closed, reduced to the smallest slits possible, her feeble attempts to speak coming out in only quiet moans. Whatever had happened to her had just been enough to leave her on the verge of death without crossing over, something that rarely occurred with Immortals, it was either all or nothing. How long had she been like this? And what, Methos was afraid to know, was the extent of the damage?

* * *

First things had been first and that meant getting Rita back to the house before seeing how bad of a condition she was in. Silas carried her back, wrapped up in the blanket she'd been found with. Entering the house, he set her down on the dining room table so they could examine her, and Methos was worried because she hadn't shown any sign of healing yet, and she'd had plenty of time. Also, she still couldn't talk, could only moan and chatter her teeth against the cold now that she was in the heated house again.

Kronos had Silas and Caspian leave the room, but Methos stayed to help; unwrapping the blanket they saw that Rita's whole body was a mess of blood and half healed cuts, and the only thing that could make it worse was the fact that she had clearly been raped, and if Methos had to guess, more than once. Kronos closed his eyes and for a second looked like he was going to be sick, but he quickly regained his composure and carefully lifted his wife up into his arms and carried her up the stairs to the bathroom to get her cleaned up. Methos ran on ahead and turned on the hot water and started filling up the bathtub. Rita's teeth chattered hard as her whole body shivered in response to the cold, Kronos eased her down into the tub and she hissed as her skin was burnt and quickly became red like a lobster's. The water likewise turned red as the blood started to wash off of her body.

By now Methos was starting to feel sick too, and he knew if he stayed in the room with them much longer, he was going to do something he regretted. He asked if Kronos needed his help and when Kronos said he didn't, Methos quickly made himself scarce from the bathroom. Caspian was waiting at the bottom of the stairs when Methos came running down, as if he couldn't stand being anywhere near Kronos or his wife right now.

"We heard," Caspian said, saving Methos the trouble of giving voice to what they'd already had to acknowledge once that night.

Methos stepped away from the staircase and ran his hand through his hair as if he was trying to figure out what to do. He squeezed his eyes shut and hung his head low, he could feel hot tears already building up and stinging his eyes and slyly working their way loose through the corners of his eyes.

"H-horrible," he was finally able to say.

"I know," Caspian responded, sounding very nonchalant about it but he knew how fond Methos was of the crazy woman.

"What the hell could've happened?" Methos asked, more to himself than his brother, "She's always been able to defend herself…what the hell could've happened?"

"I don't know," Caspian told him, "But Kronos is going to want answers about what _did_ happen and I don't think she's going to be in any condition to tell him, not for a while anyway. So in the meantime we better find out what we can so he doesn't drive us nuts screaming for someone's blood without even knowing whose it is."

* * *

Given that Immortals usually had a speedy recovery from anything and everything, it wasn't so farfetched to say that they were 'immune' to many things, but shock wasn't one of them. Rita had been completely unresponsive for the first half of her time spent in the bathtub getting every speck of blood scrubbed off her body. Then by the second half, she came back to the present and burst into tears and didn't stop. Kronos made sure to the best of his abilities not to hurt her, pain was only temporary to an Immortal but all the same, his wife had been put through enough hell for one night, he wasn't going to add to it anymore than was absolutely necessary. After a while Rita started breathing heavily like she was going to be sick and Kronos took that as a sign to get her out of the scalding hot water. He lifted her out of the tub, wrapped her up in two large towels and carried her into their bedroom and laid her down on the bed. For all this she still hadn't stopped crying.

Kronos knew he wasn't going to get any answers from her tonight about what had happened, so he took a bottle of sleeping pills out from the nightstand drawer and forced a few down her throat, then he held her in his arms and rocked back on his heels and listened patiently as her neverending sobs slowly started to wind down and finally she fell into blissful unconsciousness and slumped forward against him. He kissed her gently on her forehead and got her tucked into bed to let her sleep comfortably. He had planned to go downstairs and talk to his brothers and see if they had been able to find out anything, but he decided to stay with Rita for a few minutes first, and in the process he fell asleep beside her.

The next morning when he woke up, she was still asleep and it looked like she hadn't moved all night. He decided to let her rest, so he left and went downstairs to see the others. Later that morning, Methos came up to the bedroom and saw that Rita was awake, but that she still hadn't moved from where she lay. Methos talked to her but nothing he said got any response out of her, it was like she was catatonic. Methos took his chances to see if she would lash out in retaliation if he tried unwrapping her from the towels that were covering her. To his surprise she didn't try to fight him as all as he got her to sit up on the bed and uncovered her until she was as exposed and naked as the day she was born. By now her body had healed, but now Methos knew was the harder part, mental and emotional injuries always took longer to heal, and didn't always go away.

He spoke softly and gently to Rita as he moved around the room and picked out some clothes and tried to dress her, trying to establish contact with her, trying to get some response out of her. There was no response, but he could wait on that. Through no small feat he managed to get her into a matching bra and panties and then into one of her fancier outfits. That was one thing he'd never been able to understand how Kronos came to be attracted to this woman; he usually married women who were of little to no maintenance, he never bothered with women who paid much attention to their looks. Rita didn't have a daily beauty or makeup ritual but she did have a closet full of clothes that clearly said she was a woman, and had some good taste, if not expensive. Methos decided whatever took the least hands on approach in getting her dressed would be good, he managed to get her in a blue and green snake print skirt and matching tie shirt. Getting her dressed was like trying to put a dress on a life sized doll, at least she didn't fight him, though Methos wasn't sure whether to be relieved or concerned by this fact.

For the time being, Methos decided that was enough exertion for Rita for one day so he settled he back against the pillows and let her lay down and rest, and told her that he would be back to check on her later.

"How is she?" Kronos asked when Methos joined them downstairs.

Methos shook his head grimly, "Something happened when she was attacked, she's practically catatonic right now…I don't know what's going to bring her out of it, maybe it'll wear off in time, maybe she needs another shock to her system to make her responsive again, I don't know…but for right now I don't see any harm in just letting her rest. Did she say anything to you?"

"No," Kronos answered.

Methos sucked in a sharp breath and told his brother, "I'm sorry to tell you, but we haven't been able to find any answers on our own either. The snow's covered over everything by now, we'll never be able to find anything that can help us now."

"So," Kronos said, "It's all going to come down to what she can tell us."

Once Kronos left the room, Methos and Caspian looked at each other and Methos told him, "Whatever did happen, her clothes were nowhere to be found where she was last night, that blanket that was found with her is the only thing we can go on, what do you think the odds are we can get any answers from that?"

"After being in the snow?" Caspian shook his head, "Good luck getting any trace forensics off of that thing."

"Who said anything about forensics?" Methos asked, and Caspian looked at him curiously.

* * *

Rita didn't come out of her catatonic state at any time that day, or that night, or the next day when she woke up again. Once again Methos took it upon himself to get her changed and dressed, this time he managed to wrangle her out of her clothes from the previous day and into a fish print dress. But once again she spent the whole day laying on the bed looking up at the ceiling, never responding when anybody talked to her. Methos felt his heart ripped out for her, but he also felt horrible for Kronos, he knew only too well what it was like to have his wife brutally raped and knowing both that there was nothing he could do about it, and never knowing who was responsible.

Another day passed before Rita finally seemed to snap out of her unresponsive condition. By the third day she got up early in the morning, spent an hour in the bathtub, and came downstairs to face the others, the only thing she hadn't done was get dressed; she met them still wearing the nightgown she'd been dressed in the night before.

"Do you feel up to talking about what happened?" Methos asked, knowing they were treading on thin ice already.

"I suppose I might as well," she replied as she sat down at the kitchen table, "Unfortunately I think I remember it very well."

"Just tell us what you can," Methos said.

Rita bit her bottom lip and said, "There were three men, they were all Immortals. They grabbed me and knocked me down, I felt something jab me in the neck, and I couldn't move."

"A paralytic," Methos said.

"I guess," Rita answered as she lay her head on the table, "There was one guy who I guess had the brain between the three of them, he did most of the work, the other two mainly just stood by and watched."

Methos felt his stomach twisting and flipping, and he could tell from the look on Kronos' face that he felt the same.

"I don't even know how long it happened," Rita told them, "Or how long they were there…they left me there to bleed to death, and I remember thinking how odd it was that I wasn't healing. I don't get it."

Methos thought about the possibilities and told her, "Perhaps there was something more in the shot they gave you. Among their own kind, Immortals have been able to come up with some of the damnedest things imaginable. Rita, would you know the men responsible if you saw them again?"

She nodded, and added, "I'd know him without his clothes on, that much I feel certain about."

It was obvious that going into these grisly details was taking a toll on Rita, after a few more questions they excused her and she went to the stairs and headed back to the bedroom.

"What do you think?" Methos asked Kronos when it was the two of them.

"I think I'm going to kill somebody, slowly, painfully," Kronos told him.

"Yeah well…I may be able to help you there," Methos said, not sounding enthusiastic about it at all.

Kronos turned and looked at his brother who walked out of the room ahead of him. He followed after Methos and saw he and Caspian were in the dining room. Methos sat down by the table and looked either like he was going to be sick or like he was going to burst into tears, or maybe both. On the table was the blanket Rita had been found in, bunched up into a large lump.

"What's going on?" Kronos asked them.

Methos looked up to face his brother and he explained, "We tried finding out something about the men who attacked her. We didn't find her clothes, the only thing we _had_ to work with was this blanket," he picked it up and tossed it to Kronos.

"What about it?" he asked as he caught it and unfolded it.

"See that pattern?" Methos asked, "It's tartan, a very specific kind. It belongs to one of the Highland clans of Scotland."

Kronos looked at it, and then back at his brother and said, "Then one of them is responsible for this."

"That's where it gets difficult," Methos told him, "I checked…this particular tartan comes from the MacLeod clan, and in the whole history of that clan, only _two_ members have been found to be Immortals."

"Who?"

"Connor MacLeod and Duncan MacLeod," Methos said.

"And naturally," Kronos said, clearly resisting the urge to tear the whole room apart, "You ran their names through that Watcher database that you helped put together."

Methos nodded, "Yeah…"

"Well?" Kronos demanded to know.

Methos huffed and said, "Connor MacLeod is in the clear, he was 12,000 miles away when it happened…but the other, this Duncan MacLeod…he's the younger of the two, and from what the files say, not very bright…unfortunately his whereabouts can _not_ be accounted for, on the night Rita was attacked he apparently gave his Watcher the slip, but he _was_ in the surrounding area on the night in question."

Kronos clenched the tartan blanket in his fists until his nails practically went through it, "That bastard raped my wife."

"Seems so," Methos nodded, "A bit odd, his record doesn't say anything about him having a history of doing things like this."

"That doesn't mean a damn thing and you know it," Kronos told him.

Methos nodded, "No, you're right…it means nothing…"

"Where is he now?" Kronos asked.

Methos huffed and told him, "He alternates between Seacouver and Paris."

"Which is he at now?" Kronos asked.

Methos shook his head, "No, I know what you have planned, Kronos, and while I can understand it, it's not the way to do this…killing MacLeod would be too easy, even by your methods."

"Then what do you suggest we do with him?" Kronos wanted to know.

Methos offered a small smile and said, "Well as usual, brother, I _do_ have a plan."


	2. Chapter 2

Having a plan and executing it were two different things. If Methos could've picked up and left at a moment's notice he could've resumed his usual globetrotting ways and traveled halfway around the world to cut MacLeod off at the pass and let him think it was a chance meeting of two Immortals. If it had just been him, the way it usually was, the way he preferred it whenever he didn't give in to an impulse to marry some nice mortal woman and settle down for 20 years before picking up and taking off again. But that wasn't in the cards for him this time. Now fate was intervening and he had to resume the role of a responsible adult, something he periodically resented but knew at the moment that it couldn't be helped.

The damage that had accrued following Rita's attack had began relatively confined, as often most rapes begin, limited only to the victim's own mind and wellbeing, then it grew, and spread, and seeped out, and it latched onto everyone around her and was continuing to fester and grow and spread. As the days passed she gradually became more vocal, though nowhere to the point of her usual self, but also as the days passed, something happened that suddenly she began establishing a 'safe' distance to put between she and Kronos whenever he entered the room. None of them could figure it out, but suddenly Rita couldn't tolerate being within so many feet of him, and it only got worse. After the first week she reached a point where she not only couldn't stand being in the same room with him whatsoever, but she moved some of her things out of their bedroom and into a spare room down the hall and secluded herself in it until she was sure Kronos had gone downstairs. Only once she was certain he was gone would she emerge from it, and while he tried to remain civil and talk to her, she wouldn't talk to him, and she let no one into the room except for Methos, forcing him into the reluctant role of mediator.

One morning Methos was explaining the current situation to Caspian and told his brother, "As long as things carry on like this, I can't leave these two alone, there's no telling what would happen, and right now for some reason I'm the _only_ person Rita is willing to talk to, I can't take off with her in this present state."

"And that's a problem," Caspian commented in a dry cynical manner.

"And that brings me to my next point," Methos looked at him.

Caspian's eyes turned to look towards Methos before he turned his head, like a vampire. He slowly turned and looked at his brother and asked him, already with the feeling he knew where this conversation was going, "Which is?"

"I can handle Rita for the time being, but I need somebody around here to keep an eye on Kronos as well," Methos explained, "You know he's two steps away from falling to pieces because of this. Is there any way you and Silas can stay on here and help me with these people?"

Caspian looked at him with an unreadable expression on his face and seemed to consider the question for a few seconds, before finally answering neutrally, "Yeah, sure, why not?" He sounded like a guy putting as much convincement into saying he was looking forward to a root canal.

"Well I appreciate it," Methos said, "And I think this might help me figure out my plan for MacLeod."

"That'll be news," Caspian told him, "I haven't heard a damn word about this plan yet, what've you got in mind?"

"You know the saying revenge is a dish best served cold?"

"So?"

Methos looked at him and asked, "You ever spend much time in a kitchen?"

Caspian responded with a look that was either meant to say 'get on with it' or 'I'm going to beat you to death', or maybe both.

"Well cold only really gives off a _true_ effect when it's in contrast to extreme heat, you've seen what happens when you leave a frying pan on the burner too long, then throw cold water in it. _That's_ what I want to do with MacLeod, and I want to make sure he never sees it coming."

Caspian looked at Methos and observed, "And yet something still seems to be bothering you, what?"

Methos shook his head, "It just doesn't make any sense, Duncan MacLeod is the _last_ person anyone would _ever_ suspect of raping anyone."

"Isn't that the point?" Caspian returned, "They usually _are_."

"I know," Methos replied, "But it doesn't make sense, and it doesn't gel with what Rita said about there being two other Immortals, MacLeod believes in the Prize, and seems to think he's entitled to win it, he doesn't make a habit of traveling with a pack."

"Well he's not exactly a monk either, is he?" Caspian pointed out.

"No," Methos answered, "Currently there's one former student that keeps his company on occasion."

"Well?"

Methos knew what the question was, and though Caspian had a point, rare though it was, Methos shook his head, "This student will be lucky if he lives 5 years as damn naïve as he is, no way in hell he could be a co-conspirator in this. Anyway that'd still leave the matter of a _third_ party, we _know_ Connor wasn't there, Darius is dead."

"What does Darius have to do with anything?" Caspian wanted to know.

Methos looked at him and answered simply, "They were friends."

"Dumb," Caspian shook his head, "I told you when he took that Quickening that _nothing_ good would come of it, and what's he do? Gets his head cut off, by _mortals_ of all people."

"I know," Methos replied, "This is almost…", but he tried to dismiss that thought as quickly as it came to him.

"What?" Caspian asked him, "It's what?"

"I was going to say," Methos answered, "This almost seems like something _Horton_ would be capable of."

Caspian chewed on that idea for a minute and asked Methos, "He's dead too, _isn't_ he?"

"Supposed to be," Methos said, "But for a mortal he had a good track record of being invincible." He wrung his hands as he contemplated, "Would almost be worth it to get the grave exhumed, make _sure_ …but Rita said they were _all_ Immortals, so that eliminates Horton too."

"Hell of a day when being dead isn't alibi enough," Caspian noted.

Methos balled one hand up into a fist and started hitting himself on the side of his head, "I can't figure this out, Caspian, I can't figure out what happened, _why_ it happened, _how_ this could be possible, I can't figure out _how_ this MacLeod fellow can be _so_ far off the Watcher's mark, they're supposed to watch him like a hawk, they _have_ for hundreds of years."

"Well they've got to sleep sometime," Caspian said, "Who knows what he _really_ does when there _aren't_ eyes on him?"

Methos looked at him and told him, "That would imply that MacLeod _knew_ where they were, that he _has_ known a hell of a lot longer than just the past two years."

"That's assuming those 'friends' of yours are always so truthful when you talk to them," Caspian reminded him, "Exactly how _do_ you know you can trust them?"

Methos answered point blank, "I know more about the Watchers than the Watchers know about the Watchers, _them_ I can trust because they're so ignorant."

"So," Caspian said to him, "Now what?"

* * *

Days were hard, nights were harder. Being winter, that was always a given since night lasted so much longer already but now the nights were excruciating. Methos was generally the last one to go to bed, even when he did, he seldom slept, often he just lay awake in his bed and stare up at the ceiling, hearing only the sounds of his own breathing, still he kept an ear out for any sounds coming from the rooms on either side of his. Through the looking glass, that's what it was like, Kronos on one side of the hall, Rita on the other, and Methos knew neither of them were getting any sleep either. He didn't know how he knew, he just knew that right now Kronos was in the exact same position he was, laying in bed, staring up into the pitch blackness of the night, wondering what the hell had gone wrong?, and where to from here? And he knew Rita also stared off into the inky blackness, trying to ward off sleep, ward off the nightmares, the memories, trying not to think, but at the same time wracking her brain trying to remember something additional about her attackers that would help them find out who and where they were. He really worried about that woman.

12 years ago when they found out Kronos had gotten married, and they'd first had a chance to meet Rita, the general consensus was that their brother had finally lost his mind and married himself a damn trophy wife. Of course that was an exaggeration and a pale contrast to the sorts of women who actually gave the title meaning, but for the lives of all of them they couldn't figure out what it was that had attracted Kronos to this woman. Nothing, except for the fact that she was Immortal and practically his for the molding as he'd found her shortly before her first death and had trained her after. In spite of this, it seemed obvious that if she had been on her own, she would be an easy kill; now it's true most Immortals don't enter the Game with a predisposition to killing, and most never reach a point where they would consider it enjoyable, but Rita had no stomach for blood or any sort of killing, she couldn't even stand the sight of mauled animals they occasionally found in the yard. At least that seemed to be the case until the first fight they all found themselves plunged into.

Headhunters, rogue Immortals, just plain crazies whose sanity rotted away either from age or too many drugs or too many fights or all of the above, challenges were seldom ever as simple as the Watchers thought. The only thing you could ever be certain of was uncertainty, and you could almost _always_ count on someone who didn't give a damn about the rules, especially the one about 'one on one' fighting. What had started out as a trip to Paris to bid farewell to a fallen comrade had turned into a fight for all their lives when they were ambushed by a pack of Immortals who looked like they belonged in a Mad Max movie. Eight against five ordinarily might not be so worrisome, but given the fact that these Immortals, whoever they had been, disregarded even the rule about holy ground, a rule even the Horsemen had never felt a need to press their luck on, that was when they knew they had trouble. So in order, the priorities had been: 1. stay alive, 2. get _off_ holy ground before the fighting got serious, and 3. _kill_.

Reaching the outside of the cemetery might as well have been trying to run the gauntlet in a patch of quicksand, the gates were a good 300 yards away from where they'd come to pay their respects to an old friend, they were outnumbered inside, and there was no telling yet if there were more waiting on the outskirts for them. Methos cut across the tombs and thought they were going to make it unscathed, then he heard the fatal sound of somebody tripping and hitting the ground. He turned back and saw Rita sprawled on the ground, and just as she rolled over to get to her feet, a strange Immortal woman with an animalistic strength jumped on her and pulled a short sword on her and tried to take her head. The two women wrestled on the ground as Rita struggled to stay just out of the blade's reach, as she reached into the belt of her black dress and pulled out a small surgical knife and reaching up, plunged it into the other woman's chest. The other woman let out a screeching howl like a wounded animal and rolled off of Rita, giving her the opportunity to get to her feet and run.

Methos had just about gone back to help her, but before he had the chance he got his own hands full with another member of the Immortal goon squad, a large man who died somewhere in his late 20s who had the endurance of a nut job on PCP. Holy ground or no holy ground, the other Immortal had his sword drawn and came dangerously close to taking Methos' head before he even saw what was going on. Methos threw himself back and landed on the ground, _just_ missing the blade of the other guy's sword. He drew his own Ivanhoe out of his coat and got to his feet and decided to meet the challenge head on, he was always leery about fighting on holy ground but this time he knew he didn't have a choice. The two Immortals locked blades and seemed evenly matched, but Methos knew that wouldn't last for long, and he was suddenly starting to contemplate what the worst case scenario would be if he _did_ take a head on holy ground.

Luckily, fate intervened in the form of a wiry Immortal woman. Rita stumbled again as she was running and fell down beside an old tombstone that was worn and falling apart. One of the pieces lay on the ground within her reach, roughly the size of a brick. She picked it up in one hand and charged at the other Immortal and hit him in the head with it. It only stunned him for a second so she beat him with it again, and again, Methos heard the skull fracture into pieces, the blood spewed out of his wounds, he wasn't dead, despite the damage he was merely stunned for a few seconds, but it was enough for both other Immortals to run.

"Get over here!" Kronos called to them from the wrought iron gate, who from where he stood, thought his brother and his wife were merely roughhousing with the other Immortals.

Methos and Rita ran towards the gate and Methos grabbed Rita by her hips and gave her a boost up so Kronos could grab her and pull her over, then he climbed the bars beside her and jumped over the top.

Now the gloves came off.

The other Immortals, whoever they were, whatever they were, were definitely psychotic and murderous but also clearly nowhere near as old or as experienced as the Horsemen. Silas's preferred weapon of choice was always an axe, however that hadn't been an option this time, so for the trip he'd improvised by bringing a machete with him, it was no axe but not a bad second, he was able to cut through the fancy swordplay and quickly decapitated two of the Immortals, the woman and the large man Rita had assaulted, making the fight far more even. Kronos made short work of another one, he'd taken the courtesy to throw a knife into the man's heart to take him off guard and then nonchalantly lopped off his head. Caspian couldn't resist having a little fun with two of the others and opted for a slower death, cutting their heads off after using his knife to partially disembowel them. Methos was met with two others and decided to take a cue from Greek mythology and in the tradition of Meleager, cut off both of their heads with one swing of his Ivanhoe. That left one, and Rita had him.

Up to this time Methos had never seen Rita fight, he hadn't even been convinced she knew how, and it didn't look like she was having much luck now either. The man she was fighting with didn't look like he was trying to take her head, instead it looked like the two of them were engaged in a wrestling fight to the death, he kept throwing her off of him, she reacted by throwing him down or throwing him off of her. After a couple more body checks, the man took his sword out of his coat and swung at her, Rita dropped down on one foot and one knee, pulled another knife out of the folds of her funeral dress and plunged it low into his abdomen, bringing _him_ to his knees, and as he did, she rose to her feet with a short sword, grabbed him by the hair with her free hand, and slit his throat 360 degrees, it only required a little more effort to actually sever his head from his neck.

If eight Immortals against five in a fight was unbelievable, eight Quickenings being absorbed by five Immortals was even more mind blowing. By the time everything died down, it was a wonder the cemetery was even still standing. For four men over 5000 years old, what had just happened was a bit unusual but nothing particularly out of their league, but Methos couldn't help wondering how Rita was going to react to what had just happened. They found her knocked flat on the ground, almost unconscious from taking in that much energy, but she got to her feet and seemed to be fine. She looked around at what had just happened, what they had just done, what _she_ had just done, and lasted about ten seconds before she fell to her knees and threw up. As far as Methos knew, it had been her first experience in actual combat, and if so, she did very well for herself, he was surprised. So apparently Kronos _had_ taught her how to win and survive.

And yet despite this knowledge, Methos had _still_ had a premonition that something bad would happen to Rita when she stormed out of the house that night. He couldn't explain it, but he knew as soon as she left that it was a mistake. He _knew_ he should've gone after her, but he didn't, instead he listened to Kronos, something he damn well should've known better than to do after so many thousands of years. Methos knew that was only _one_ of the many things in this whole mess keeping him up at night.

* * *

"Not this again," Caspian complained the next morning as he found Methos at the dining room table writing in a large and aged book, "Not the phony journals again."

"Why not?" Methos asked.

"Because you've already done 50 of them over the last 800 years," Caspian answered.

"So?" Methos replied nonchalantly.

"So what's the point of them?" Caspian asked.

Methos quit writing and looked up at his brother and answered, "A lot of people get it in their heads that a 5,000 year old man might have a use for writing down the events of his life, they believe it, MacLeod's likely to believe it, curiosity might push him to even read some of it…he can read 100 years' worth of lies, and he'll never know the difference, he'll think he's getting some insight to the man turned myth."

"It's a waste of time," Caspian responded.

Methos put down his pen again and looked up at Caspian again with a not fond expression on his face, and very dryly he restrained himself and said, "Caspian, you are my brother and for that reason alone I am obligated to love you."

"Don't get disgusting now," Caspian told him.

"But," Methos continued, "You show a stunning lack of imagination."

"I never had a use for it," he replied.

"Caspian," Methos explained, "If this is going to work, if MacLeod's going to buy into it, if I'm going to lure him in, every detail is going to have to be perfect."

"And exactly _how_ is it you're planning to fix it that you two just by _chance_ run into each other?" his brother asked him.

"That's the part I'm having trouble with," Methos confessed, "One idea I had was to see if I could get Don Salzer to go along with a gag and be the mediator who points MacLeod my way."

"Who?"

Methos glared back at Caspian and answered, "A friend of mine."

"You mean another one of those Watchers," Caspian said.

"Yes," Methos answered simply, "MacLeod _knows_ the Watchers exist, why not use it to our advantage?"

"I still say it'd be easier to just take his head," Caspian said.

"It would be, but it wouldn't be near as satisfactory," Methos said.

They heard footsteps on the stairs and a moment later Silas entered the dining room carrying a tray with a full plate still on it.

"What happened?" Methos asked.

Silas shook his head, "Won't eat, she wouldn't even open the door."

Methos inhaled loudly and said, more to himself than the others, "I wonder what's going through her mind right now?"

"We can all guess what's going through her mind," Caspian noted.

"I don't know," Methos shook his head, "I don't think that Rita has any illusions about the men who attacked her coming back. That's not why she's barricaded herself in that room. The thing she seems to be terrified of right now, is Kronos." Something occurred to him and he asked his brothers, "Where _is_ he anyway?"

"He went out a couple hours ago," Silas answered, and told Methos, "I think the elephant in the room is making the walls start to close in around here."

"Rita's not going to have any peace of mind until she confronts MacLeod and identifies him as her rapist," Methos said, "I've got to figure out how to make this work and _quick_."

"I _still_ say we'd all save a lot of time and trouble if we just went after MacLeod, disemboweled him, and brought him back here," Caspian told him.

Methos' only response on the spot was, "And you wonder _why_ you're still single."

"You know where he is," Caspian pointed out.

"I do."

"You know where he goes."

"I do," Methos replied.

"You know how he works."

"I do," Methos said.

"So what's the problem?" Caspian asked.

"It's still too fresh," Methos said, "MacLeod knew Rita was Immortal, he might even be smart enough to figure out she'd be married to an Immortal, a new Immortal pops up on the scene he might start to get suspicious, if however I let him _find_ me, he would _never_ suspect I arranged it that way." He leaned back in his chair and told the others, "But there's still something about all this that bothers me."

"What now?"

"When we found Rita, her clothes were gone, everything she was carrying on her at the time was gone, we never found any of it. Now we've figured that she was just dumped where we found her and she was attacked somewhere else, but the question is did they take everything with them, or did they dump it all somewhere?"

"What difference does it make?" Caspian asked.

"Maybe none," Methos answered, "But I can't stop thinking about it." He looked at Caspian and told him, "You know there's been a garbage strike the last couple weeks."

"So what?" Caspian asked.

"Silas," Methos got up from the table, "Can you keep an eye on things around here until we get back?"

The larger man looked mildly confused by the question but nodded and answered, "Sure, Methos."

Methos grabbed Caspian by the arm and pulled him towards the door and told him, "We're going to go see if we can find anything. Maybe we can get an idea where it happened, and if so, maybe we'll find something more to go on from there."


	3. Chapter 3

"When we get back home," Caspian told Methos, "I'm going to kill you."

"Promises, promises," Methos replied.

"We've just spent the last five hours searching every square foot of a two mile radius," Caspian recounted, "Searched through 50 garbage dumpsters, 200 cans, 20 burn barrels, every backyard, alleyway and empty lot between here and the county line."

Methos pointed to the rusted trash cans lined up on either side of the alley they walked through and responded, "There's only these left to check and then we'll head back home."

"I don't know what the hell you think this is even going to accomplish," Caspian said as he rolled up his sleeve and stuck his arm down into the first trash barrel he found.

"I don't know," Methos was starting to feel the gravity of the hopelessness of this situation, "It's just something that doesn't seem right, I can't put my finger on it."

"Try putting your…" Caspian stopped in mid-response and pulled his arm out of the trashcan and revealed a torn shirt with dried stains on it that someone with a few thousand years' of experience on them could easily identify as being blood.

"That's the shirt she was wearing when she went out," Methos realized, "What else is in there?"

Caspian practically had to stand on his head to reach down into it, but he managed to retrieve a pair of shredded and bloody underwear, a pair of blue jeans covered in the same dry blood stains as the shirt, a pair of brown boots, also covered in blood though those looked more like transference stains, and wrapped up under all of them was a black trench coat that had also seen better days.

"Is that it?" Methos asked.

Caspian looked again and he told him, "That's everything."

Methos searched through the pockets on the coat, and the jeans, all he found in it was Rita's wallet with her current ID and enough money to get through the night on.

"They get rid of the clothes, but keep the needle, and her weapons," Methos said, "What was it she usually kept on her, what, about five different blades and knives? At least a couple of surgical knives, though where the hell she got them is…"

Caspian saw something change over in Methos' eyes as he talked, something had just occurred to him. "What is it?"

Methos looked at Caspian and told him, "We have to get back to the house, _now_."

* * *

Methos didn't know where the hell Kronos was choosing to spend the day but he was very thankful to learn that they had beaten him back to the house. Caspian didn't have any idea what they were looking for but he followed Methos up the stairs and down the hall to the master bedroom, and Caspian stayed in the doorway and watched as Methos ransacked everything in the room from the dressers to the closet to the old steamer trunk at the foot of the bed.

"What the hell are you even looking for?" he asked.

Methos had taken about half the contents out of the trunk when he apparently found what he was looking for, he reached in and Caspian heard a familiar clinking of metal and saw Methos take out several knives of varying sizes, from medical scalpels to hunting knives, and placed them alongside one another on the floor, and last but not least Methos took out a sword that was no more than 24 inches long, Rita's preferred weapon of choice, she never got in a fight without it.

"This," Methos held it up for Caspian to see, " _This_ is what Rita's been so terrified about, not of the men who raped her, not of Kronos, but of Kronos discovering _this_. When she stormed out of here that night she was so mad she didn't even realize she was unarmed."

Methos went back to the closet and grabbed hangers off the rack and tossed two similar trench coats to the one they'd found in the trashcan, onto the trunk. "She always switches them between coats, she grabbed the wrong coat, she must've been switching them out the day we first came here and when we all arrived, she simply forgot, and thought the one in the closet downstairs was the right one…then the first time she was alone in this room, she hid them because she knows Kronos never looks for anything in the trunk. If he'd found them laying around the room, he would've known that she went out with no protection." Methos looked like he was going to be sick, and he told Caspian, "I hate to say it, but with this to consider, Rita's lucky they were _only_ out to rape her. If they'd wanted her head she would've been dead in a heartbeat, three of them, one of her, MacLeod apparently carrying around paralytic agents to dispense whenever the need arises, she wouldn't have stood a chance."

Methos handed the sword to Caspian and told him, "I have to go talk to her, do something with all this before Kronos gets back."

* * *

Methos went to the other end of the hall and paused before the door, put his ear to it, didn't hear anything, and lightly rapped on it and called out, "Rita, it's me, can I come in?"

He didn't hear anything at first. Then he heard the lock being undone on the door, Rita only opened it a couple inches to see him, then when she saw he was alone, she held the door open for him. She was dressed in a white and blue nightgown that looked like an older woman's housecoat, she hadn't changed out of it in almost a week, and she was starting to look it.

"What is it?" she asked.

He stepped in, closed the door, looked at her, and told her, "I know."

"Know what?" she asked.

"We found what you put in the trunk," he told her.

If there was any question that she knew, the look on Rita's face when she heard that removed any trace of doubt.

Methos wasn't even sure where to go from there, he looked at her and told you, "You are so lucky just to be alive right now."

"Yeah? Sure don't seem like it from where I stand," Rita told him.

Now more than ever, Methos felt a need to know, "What was the fight about that night?" What could've been so bad that an Immortal would storm out into the night without even thinking to make sure they were armed incase they met with another Immortal?

She went over to the bed, sat down on the edge of it, looked away from him and answered, "It was just a stupid fight."

"Rita, I've been married 67 times, I've had my share of stupid fights," he told her as he sat down beside her, "None of them ended like _that_. Now come on, what's really going on around here?"

She looked to him this time and repeated, this time a bit more convincingly, "It _was_ just a stupid fight."

"What about?" he asked.

She shook her head and for a minute Methos didn't think he was going to get an answer out of her. Then she said, "It started _before_ you came. I told him I didn't _want_ you guys here."

Okay, he hadn't been expecting that one, but he didn't say anything and let her continue.

"I guess I'm just disillusioned about this marriage," Rita explained, and looked at him, "You know, when I first found out I'd just married a man who was 5000 years old…"

"4,790 actually," Methos corrected her.

"Anyway," she said, "I just figured that this would be so exciting, I figured we'd always be on the move traveling the globe, I figured he'd take me halfway across the world and show me 'This is where I was raised', 'This is where my family lived', 'This is where I fought in battles', 'This is where I met my first wife, my tenth wife, my hundredth wife' and I'd get a sense of what I married into, some insight into what his life's been like, what makes him tick. And instead, all I get is the three of you coming out here every month during which time we have _no_ privacy, it's impossible to have an intimate night in with the three of you eavesdropping up and down the hall."

Methos raised one hand in a swearing gesture and told her, "I never heard a thing."

"And I told him that I didn't want you here for once," Rita continued, "Or I told him 'Let them come here and let's _us_ go away to a hotel for the night so we can be alone', but he said no, he said you were his family and we were staying _right here_. And finally I told him _he_ could stay here with you three if he wanted but _I_ was leaving. I'd planned to spend the night knocking back drinks in a bar until I couldn't even remember my own name. All I wanted was to get _out_ for a night. Ironic, isn't it?" She turned away from him and added under her breath, " _Very_ ironic."

"Why didn't you say so before?" Methos asked her.

"What good would it have done?" she asked, "Would you have listened?"

"Yes," he told her.

"Would _they_?" Rita pointed towards the door, "Anyway, when did it ever do any good to try coming between a man and his family?"

"Rita," Methos said to her, "I've been married 67 times, believe me I understand." He reached over and subtly slipped an arm around Rita and pulled her towards him, she sighed and rested her head on his shoulder and stared blankly ahead at the wall.

"I'm sorry, Rita," he told her.

* * *

"Caspian and I scoured every possible place Rita's clothes could've been tossed within two miles of here," Methos told Kronos once he finally came home, and tried to catch his brother up on what they'd found out, "We finally found them in a trash barrel at the end of the two miles, in the alley between West 5th and West 6th Streets, half of the houses out there are abandoned or condemned, nobody lives at the house the trash cans were at. That house is on the corner to a side street which leads to a shortcut to the airport, and we found out that on the night of Rita's attack there was a departing flight heading to Vancouver, flight left two hours after we found her, that's plenty of time for MacLeod to attack Rita, ditch the clothes, dump her body, and catch the plane. But it still leaves a lot of unanswered questions."

"We don't even know _where_ she was attacked," Kronos told him.

"No," Methos admitted, "But there _is_ something new to consider. Rita said she left and was heading to a bar, closest bar from here is the one on 5th Street, about five blocks away from where her clothes were tossed. I think MacLeod intercepted her somewhere between points A and B, and after the attack, he decided to toss the clothes one place, toss Rita another, he couldn't possibly have planned to dump her body one block from her own home, even he can't be _that_ stupid."

"Or suicidal," Caspian offered.

Kronos took this new information in and after a minute he said to Methos, "I want to see the clothes."

Methos' eyes widened and he started to protest that idea, "I don't think that…."

" _I want to see them_ ," Kronos told him, leaving little room for argument.

Methos took a step back and paused for a second before responding, "Alright."

Methos and Caspian stepped out of the room as Methos went to collect the bloody clothes they'd brought home, Caspian stayed close to him and asked, "What now?"

"You might do well to make yourself scarce," Methos told him, "It's not going to be pretty," he had a second thought and added, "But don't go too far, I might need you to help scrape me off the walls when he's done."

Caspian merely nodded his head and replied, "Got it."

Methos reentered the room carrying the clothes wrapped in the coat and set them on the table and slowly moved away, but stayed in the doorway. Especially given everything that had transpired over the last couple weeks, there existed few secrets among them anymore.

Kronos went over to the table and reached to grab the pile but he stopped short of actually touching anything. He grabbed the top of the folded coat and threw it back, revealing the pile of bloody clothes underneath. The first thing he seemed to dare touch was one of the boots, bloody, ruined, size 9, he remembered, he couldn't actually remember Rita wearing them, but he did remember her having them. It was the damnedest thing out of all the things he remembered about her to actually have it stick out in his mind, but there it was, even after 12 years of marriage he still wasn't sure what to make of a wife who had 50 changes of clothes and only 10 pairs of shoes, half those ridiculous sandals she always wore, and half boots, all of them alike, practical boots, not those idiotic things most women wore these days, _these_ could easily be mistaken for a man's work boots if they were larger. He felt along every inch of the now ruined boot, then picked up the other and touched it in like. He set it down, then picked up the shirt Rita had worn the night of her attack.

Two weeks ago this had been a not new yellow shirt with red floral designs on it, almost all of which by now was drowned out by the dried bloodstains and dirt, the congealed blood made the cotton all but stiff as a board now. The fabric frayed in several parts where it had been ripped and torn, but he was also able to identify several distinctive cuts in the material from a blade, something he made an educated guess, from the switchblade family based on the width of the cuts in the fabric. An expert himself in the art of maiming a human body, Kronos could very easily envision what had happened to Rita, which injuries had been inflicted first, in what order, he'd done it himself and far worse 2000 years ago. He raised the mutilated garment to his nose and inhaled, amidst the grease and grime and mold that had since set in, he could still smell _her_ on it, her scent, her sweat, her blood, her _fear_ ; likely she was paralyzed _before_ the actual attack, which would give plenty of time for the fear to kick in, knowing she couldn't even move, let alone fight back against three Immortals who jumped her.

He came very close to losing it when he saw her underwear in the pile, also covered in blood and grime, also mutilated like the shirt, they looked like they'd been ripped right off of her. By now, Kronos was very close to seeing red, and the only thing keeping him from going off the deep end was the exact same thing that had kept him from losing his mind over the past couple weeks: as soon as they got their hands on MacLeod, he was going to kill him, slowly, painfully, MacLeod would be begging him to take his head long before Kronos was finished with him.


End file.
